Recovering From All Wounds
by btamamura
Summary: After the Three Musketeers and D'Artagnan were severely wounded, Albert finds himself feeling much guilt. Even emotional wounds need healing, not just the physical sort.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Albert the Fifth Musketeer or the characters_

**Notes: **_**There. This lengthy, angsty fic of mine is finally complete after all this time. Two of my close friends know of this, and encouraged me to continue writing it after I'd told them about it.**_

_**No matter how bright and cheerful someone can be, even they are prone to emotional scarring. I wanted to prove that even Albert would be affected if something were to happen to his friends. I apologise for putting Albert and the Three Musketeers (plus D'Artagnan) through this, it killed me to write it... Anyway, I do hope you enjoy reading this story, emotional though it will be.**_

**Chapter One**

Everything was dark. Somebody kept calling to him, but who was it? Why were they insisting he wake up? He was just sleeping, right? Eventually, he decided to give in to the person, if only for them to shut up. He tiredly opened his eyes slowly and moved to sit up, but he was pushed down gently. He realised the person calling him was the doctor. "Doctor?"

"Easy there. I haven't finished seeing if you were also injured," the medical practitioner murmured.

"Injured...?" That's when it all came back to him. He bolted upright, only to put a hand to his head and let out a moan.

"See what I mean? Just lie back."

"I wasn't injured...but, the others...?"

"I patched them all up first, they needed immediate care. They're all asleep at the moment, it's the only way they can avoid feeling the pain for the time being."

"Will they be alright?"

The doctor got him to lie down again, a serious expression on his features. "I'm not certain just yet. They were in horrible shape when you were all found. But, if you weren't injured, why were you unconscious?"

"I think I must've fainted. My head still feels a little funny."

"Have some water, that might help you. Now, I'm going to need you to do something for me."

"What is it?"

"Keep an eye on the others. Something tells me you won't want to leave them anyway." He looked to the side, and lying on four cots were the other Musketeers. "Do you know what happened?"

"I think they may have been attacked by more Guards than usual. When I arrived, I saw D'Artagnan fighting five Guards on his own, but the others were already unconscious. Normally, they're able to fight the Guards with little issue, even if I'm not there to help out, so the numbers must've been against them."

"I see. Then, what happened?"

"I helped D'Artagnan fight off the last of the Guards, and that was when I'd noticed his injuries. Then, I noticed the others had the same types of injuries, only in different areas of the body. Not long after D'Artagnan collapsed from blood loss, I felt myself becoming overwhelmed and then, everything went dark."

He nodded. "I see."

"Just how serious were their injuries?"

"Pretty serious. They had some very deep cuts on their arms, legs and torsos, and I even saw one on Athos' face. It's fortunate someone found all of you when they did, otherwise these gentlemen may not have made it through the night. As it is, they're all touch-and-go."

His eyes widened as he heard that. "Is there anything else that can be done?"

"Just let them rest and pray that they'll wake in the morning. That's when I'll be able to give them some broth and administer the pain medication. For now, it's too dangerous. If they do wake in the morning, then everything will be fine, though they'll all still be weakened from their wounds for a few weeks. If they don't..."

He shook his head. "How could this have happened...?"

"Don't worry about that now, Albert." The doctor put his hand on the smallest Musketeer's shoulder. "It's over. Just focus on them, okay?"

He nodded. "Okay."

"I'll be in the next room. If anything goes wrong, call for me and I'll be right in."

"What should I do?"

"Just keep an eye on them, and observe their condition every half-hour. One time to call me is if they develop a fever, as that could be a sign of infection." He patted the smaller male's shoulder gently, then left the room.

Albert slid off his cot and moved to the centre of the room. He could see his friends lying there peacefully, though he knew they couldn't be, not with the pain they were dealing with.

Albert had just finished checking if his comrades had any sign of infection, testing their temperatures and checking the areas near each wound for a dangerous red line. Thankfully, there was no rise in temperature and nothing to hint danger. Even so, he still couldn't be reassured that his friends were going to be alright. "Why didn't I get there sooner...? This should not have happened, not to them..." He sat by D'Artagnan's cot, and listened as his friend breathed steadily. "Despite the seriousness of your wounds, you continued to fight. Why? When I arrived, you were...you were practically dead on your feet..."

The brunette stirred slightly and opened his eyes with difficulty. "Albert...?"

The hoarse voice caused the petit male to sit up straight in alarm. "D'Artagnan! You're awake! Are you alright?"

"It hurts all over..."

"I'm sorry, but the doctor can't give you pain medication until morning. It's not safe in your current condition, it could make you ill..."

"Thought so...water...?"

"Of course. Your throat must be parched." He moved to the bench and poured a cup of water for his friend, adding a straw to make drinking easier. He returned to the cot and offered the straw. He continued holding the cup while D'Artagnan had something to drink.

"Better. Thanks."

"It's alright. You need to keep your fluids up." He returned the cup to the bench, then returned to his seat.

"How did we get here?"

"I don't know. The doctor said someone found all of us lying unconscious."

"Were you injured?"

"No. I fainted not long after you'd collapsed. Just how did you all get so injured in the first place?"

"There were twenty Guards. They were too strong, but we didn't want to give up until we defeated them."

"If only I was there, I could've helped you. I could've prevented this, I could've prevented all of you from getting injured so severely."

"How bad did the doctor say?"

"Pretty bad. If you hadn't woken by morning, then there would be no hope of recovery. But, in the morning, if everyone's able to wake, then everyone would be able to have some medication and begin recovery."

"That bad?"

"You were all cut very deeply. How did you not realise?"

"You know me. Once a Guard is around, everything else is out of the picture, even my own condition."

"Yes, I know that. Still, it was absolutely stupid of you to keep fighting in your condition. You're lucky to be awake now."

"Not so much, the pain's getting worse."

"I know, D'Artagnan, but it's not safe for you to have the medication." He knew the only other course of action would be to wait until D'Artagnan's pain became so unbearable, he'd pass out on his own.

"Are you alright?"

"I wasn't injured."

"I don't mean physical injuries. I heard you berating yourself all night. This is almost like the way you felt you'd let us down following our first mission together. Only this time, it's much worse. What happened was not your fault."

"I want to believe that, but I wasn't there to help you. If I was there, then nothing like this would've happened."

"The only ones at fault are the Guards." He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth as the pain from one of his wounds gripped him. "It hurts..."

"You wouldn't be in this condition if I had arrived in time. None of our friends would be close to dying. I wasn't there! Our motto is _One for all, and all for one_, meaning we should all be there to help each other, and I wasn't there until it was too late! The Guards may have attacked, but I'm still at fault for not being able to help even things out, my inventions could've helped all of you while you fought as many Guards as you could handle, without having to get so injured!"

He wanted to say _calm down_, but he figured the venting was what Albert needed so he could begin his own recovery.

"D'Artagnan...I'm so sorry for not being there to help you...when you needed it...I really did let everyone down this time..."

"No."

He looked up at his friend.

"You did not let us down. You came when you did, and it did help."

"But, I was too late..."

"There's no such thing as too late."

"There is if being too late results in having your friends lying on the ground bleeding to death."

"No."

Albert shook his head. "I was too late! I arrived too late! You were barely able to stand as it was when I arrived, what if I hadn't arrived until much later?"

"Exactly. You didn't arrive much later, so it wasn't too late. We all got help in the end. Don't know how, but we did."

"I couldn't do a thing. I helped fight off those Guards, and soon joined the rest of you in a state of unconsciousness."

"Albert, stuff like this happens. Even if you were there during most of the battle, they might've managed to overwhelm you as well. I'm glad you showed up when you did, I'd hate for you to be in the same condition we are."

"D'Artagnan..."

If he could've moved his arm, he would've placed his hand on top of Albert's head affectionately. "You're safe, and we're all going to recover just fine. I think that deserves to be called a victory, don't you?"

"No, not if the price to pay for victory is the near-death of four of my closest friends. I don't know what I would've done if you had died. I don't know what I will do if the others don't make it."

"Stop that. We're meant to have faith in each other. All you can do is have faith in the others that they will pull through with the strength all men envy." He noticed Albert's hand was sitting on the bed, so he slid his arm over slowly, just enough so he could take hold of it. "Okay? Just believe in them."

He nodded, turned his hand and returned the grip, albeit very lightly so as not to cause more injury. "I will." He shook his head. "I've never felt so scared in my life..."

"I know. But, we'll be okay. I promise. And any word made on D'Artagnan's honor is a promise that will be kept."

He nodded quietly.

The doctor came in to change the bandages on each injured male, and check that their wounds were clear of any sign of infection. He noticed Albert sitting by D'Artagnan's bed, gently holding the older male's hand. He also noticed the younger male was fast asleep. "Looks like he's worn down too. I'll let him rest for now." Finishing his job, the doctor filled another pitcher with water before returning to the other room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Albert the Fifth Musketeer or the characters_

**Chapter Two**

As the sun rose, four pairs of eyes slowly fluttered open. The owners of each pair felt pain ripping through them horribly from the numerous wounds they'd acquired the day before. They each clenched their teeth and let out grunts of pain.

The doctor entered the room at that moment. "Wonderful, you're all awake."

"How can it be wonderful?" Porthos asked.

"If you didn't wake, then you could've died." He set up four glasses of water and tipped some powder into each. He put a straw in each cup and moved to each cot, allowing the Musketeers to drink the medication. "This will help with the pain. It'll take a few minutes. When the pain's ended, you can have some broth." He looked to D'Artagnan. "He fell asleep by your side last night."

D'Artagnan turned his head slightly and saw Albert had his head on the bed, resting on the arm he'd extended in order to hold D'Artagnan's hand. He smiled sadly. "He needs it. He wore himself out."

"Now, while you lot are recovering from physical injuries, at the same time, your friend will be recovering from emotional scars. You will all be working together, I hope?"

"Of course we will," Athos responded quietly.

"Good. I'll go and report your conditions to the Captain, and then I'll be back with broth for breakfast." The doctor left to do exactly that.

"Gentlemen, Albert feels he's at fault for us winding up this way. The doctor's right about him needing to recover from emotional scars. No matter what I'd said last night, he continued to blame himself. Eventually, he cried himself to sleep," D'Artagnan explained. "While we all work on getting ourselves back in shape, we have to keep letting Albert know he was not at fault for what had happened yesterday. And we have to assure him that no matter how bad our conditions were, there was no way we were going to give up and die. That's what upset him the most, he feared that we would all die through the night."

"Poor Albert," Aramis whispered.

"No matter how we look at it, even though he's always helping us out of scrapes, he's still younger than the rest of us. He looks up to us and wants to do everything he can to help us out, to make us proud of him. This is much worse than our first mission with him, and we all know how upset he was at that time."

Athos would've nodded if he could. "We'll all do our best to help Albert. He'd do the same for us."

"And he will do the same for us while we all recover together," Porthos added.

Just as the doctor entered the room carrying a tray holding five bowls, Albert stirred and awoke. "What time is it...?"

"It's morning," Aramis replied.

"Aramis?" He rose to his feet and saw everyone was awake. There were all pale from blood loss, but otherwise, they looked rather well considering the extent of the injuries they'd acquired. "Porthos? Athos? Are you all alright?"

"Not quite, but we will be," Athos responded. "What about you, Albert? D'Artagnan told us about last night."

He couldn't even bring himself to blush. "I'm sorry..."

"What for? And don't say for worrying. We're glad you care, but we didn't mean to make you worry," Aramis responded.

"I think I allowed my guilt over what happened to mix with my fear and..."

"No. It's alright. This battle hurt all of us in different ways. I have a few cuts on my arms and legs. Porthos has some on his stomach. Athos has one on his face and three along his back. And D'Artagnan has many cuts everywhere. Even though you have no physical injuries that can be seen, in the end, you were still hurt."

"My friends, I..."

"And don't start saying you're to blame for everything, because you're not. You arrived when you could, so you were still with us. We'll tell you again and again if we have to," Athos added.

"This sort of thing happens all the time, it's not as if this is the first time we were overwhelmed in combat and wound up in a similar condition," Porthos commented, remembering back to when it was just him, Aramis and Athos in the squad after many others left the Musketeers and joined the Cardinal's Guards. That was the same time D'Artagnan had applied to join.

"Even so, we know that what you saw frightened you, and without fear of sounding childish, we all feel the same way. It's never easy seeing someone you care about injured the way we are."

"That's why we'll all work on recovery together. Your wounds are just as important to heal as ours are," Aramis concluded.

Albert nodded. "Alright then, gentlemen. Thank you." He appeared thoughtful. "I can work on some inventions that will help make getting around easier for all of you until your wounds have completely healed. I'll be in my workshop."

"Hold it!" the doctor exclaimed. Everyone had forgotten he was still in the room. "You need to have your breakfast before you go and do anything."

He nodded sheepishly and approached the table so he could eat his broth.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Albert the Fifth Musketeer or the characters_

**Chapter Three**

He was in his workshop, trying to plan out some different devices his friends could use. He knew crutches would be required, a special comforter so Athos wouldn't have to lie on his back, some extended arms so those who'd hurt those wouldn't have to move too much...

"Oh good, you are here, Albert," Captain de Treville commented as he entered the workshop.

"Hello, Sir. Is everything alright?"

"That's what I've come to ask you. The doctor informed me about everyone's conditions. I'm about to go and check on them, but first, I want to see if you're alright."

"I wasn't injured."

"I know. Not physically anyway."

"I will recover. The Musketeers and I vowed to recover from all of our wounds together. I'm going to work on some devices they can use to get around during recovery."

"Well, just make sure you take care of yourself too. The doctor wanted me to let you know that your cot in the room is still available if you'd prefer to be close by them during this time."

"I'll be certain to keep that in mind."

Monsieur de Treville knew that while Albert was acting strong, the petit male was still pretty distressed and is trying to distract himself with as much work as he could. He knew that night, Albert would be joining the others in the infirmary. "See that you do." He left the workshop.

Albert continued to focus on what inventions he could create to help his friends. He knew if he stopped at that moment, he'd maybe have another breakdown, and he didn't want that.

"Yes, I thought so," the doctor commented as he heard the Captain's concerns. "Like I said, I'll leave his cot in the infirmary. He'll still be near his friends, and he won't have to worry about discomfort like last night."

"Discomfort?"

"He stayed by D'Artagnan's bedside all night, even fell asleep there."

"I see."

"And even after seeing the Musketeers had all awoken with little issue, he still appeared very upset."

"I've never seen him like this."

"It's best to keep an eye on him. I've seen this before, and it's not pretty."

"What will happen?"

"In order to distract himself from what had happened, he'll force himself into his work and will refuse to stop. Even mealtimes will be skipped. In his current state, if he ceases to work, he'll find everything coming back to him and experience a breakdown. At the moment, I fear it may be a bad one."

"I'll have to make sure he at least stops to eat though, right?"

"Have him come up here to do so. As long as he's reminded that his friends are still alive, then the breakdown won't happen...or won't be as serious."

"That will really help?"

"It will. D'Artagnan told me everything, and considering young Albert's fear of his friends being killed in combat, his mind might start taking that turn when the reminiscing begins."

"This is very serious indeed. I've never known Albert to become so depressed. He's usually the one always smiling and brightening everyone's day."

"He will return to that same person one day, but it will take time and lots of work, just as it will for the Musketeers to recover from their wounds."

Albert had decided to work on the crutches first, as those were considerably simple. He wasn't really in the mood for anything not wanting to work so easily. He found some thick planks of wood that he would be able to cut up, and proceeded to do exactly that. "Now to make sure these are comfortable for D'Artagnan and Aramis to use." He paused in his work. "Although they wouldn't even need these if I had arrived on time..." He shook his head. "No, Albert, stop thinking about that! The others have assured you that you're not to blame!"

_But, they were just being nice. It is your fault and you know it_, an unhelpful voice in his head stated.

"No. It's not my fault. I arrived when I could, D'Artagnan said so."

_But, what if you arrived a minute later? They'd all be dead right now._

"But, I didn't arrive a minute later."

_No, but you were still too late to prevent such injuries happening to them. It is your fault they are currently in the infirmary, bandaged and stitched up. It is your fault they need those devices for comfort and mobility. It is your fault that they could've died._

"No, I..." The voice was winning the argument. No matter how much he tried to reassure himself the same way his friends had, in the end, he found he couldn't believe himself. "It _is_ my fault..." Try as he might to focus on his work, try as he might to keep tears out of his eyes, he couldn't fight it any longer. Pushing aside his tools and the half-finished crutches, he sat at the table, lay his crossed arms on the surface, buried his face in them, and allowed himself to cry.

Captain de Treville returned to the workshop at midday, the time everyone usually stopped what they were doing to have some lunch. "Albert?" He entered the place he'd usually find the petit male, and while he wasn't surprised, he was still shocked to find the younger male slumped over at his table, shaking. "Albert!" He hurried to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. He could feel the tremors easier and due to being so close, he could hear the young man let out some very soft sobs. "What's the matter?" He knew, he just felt it was best to ask, allow Albert to talk about what was troubling him.

"No matter how you look at it..." The petit male looked up at his Captain, tears still slipping down his cheeks. "...I am really to blame for what happened yesterday. I wouldn't even have to be making these devices for the others to use if I had been there during the worst of it. They wouldn't have to be in the infirmary if I was there on time. I was too late..."

"No, you were not too late."

"How can you say that, Sir? How can you say I wasn't too late despite knowing that because I had arrived when I did, the Musketeers are laid up in the infirmary?"

"I can say it because I know it's true, and I'd rather avoid lying at all costs. Especially about this. Lying to you would only make things worse, so know that I'm telling you the truth when I say it's not your fault. You weren't too late, it's good you arrived when you did."

"How? Only D'Artagnan was still standing, while the Three Musketeers were bleeding to death...and he was barely able to stay upright as it was..."

"You were still able to offer assistance."

"But, I fainted following D'Artagnan's collapse. I couldn't even go and find someone who could help them. If that other person hadn't found us, then..." He shook his head. "I barely did a thing. D'Artagnan told me there were twenty Guards. I only helped fight off five, while the others had risked their lives to fight off the other fifteen..."

"You still helped out a lot. If D'Artagnan was barely able to stand at that point, he would've had difficulty fighting the Guards. You came at the right moment to offer assistance, right when he needed it."

"I was still too late..."

"You were not too late, Albert. If you were too late, then D'Artagnan would've already been overwhelmed and passed out. If you were too late, then everyone would be gone. But, they're not, are they? No, they're up in the infirmary."

"They still could've died, even though I showed up at that time...I was still too late..."

"Albert..." It seemed nothing was going to convince him otherwise, not at that moment. "Come on."

He blinked, a couple more tears falling after the push his eyelids gave them.

"It's lunchtime, and the doctor organised for you to eat in the infirmary with the others."

"I'm not very hungry though, Sir..."

"Don't make me order you to eat, I will do that if that's what it takes."

He sighed and wiped at his eyes. "Alright, Sir."

"Just eat what you can, but don't go starving yourself."

He quietly nodded and followed after the Captain with little complaint. Even if he wanted to, he had little strength to do so.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Albert the Fifth Musketeer or the characters_

**Chapter Four**

The doctor looked up, just as he finished helping D'Artagnan eat his broth. "Ah, you're here. Excellent. Your lunch is on the table."

Without a word, Albert stepped over to the table and sat down. He saw his lunch was a little more filling than his breakfast was, but he wasn't sure if he was going to be able to eat it.

Monsieur de Treville approached the doctor. "Can we talk?"

"Of course. Come with me." He led the Captain out of the infirmary, and into the room he'd turned into his office. "What's wrong?"

"You were right. When I got there, Albert was crying. I don't know how long he'd allowed that breakdown to last. He's blaming himself for everything again. And he was starting to protest the idea of eating something."

"Goodness, this is more serious than I thought."

"What should we do?"

"For now, I think you should inform His Majesty that all of the Musketeers are out of commission. As much as it pains me to say it, he's going to have to depend on the Cardinal's Guards."

"If it wasn't for those blasted Guards, my Musketeers wouldn't be laid up!"

"I know, Sir. I believe that's what the Cardinal wanted."

"It does make sense. The only other time he's had so many Guards fight my Musketeers was just after the disbandment."

"We'll give young Albert a little more time, but if it's necessary, I'll keep him in here as well. He can bring projects to work on if he has to stay."

"Understood."

D'Artagnan had been propped up, it was safe for him to move a little. "Albert?"

"Oh, hello, D'Artagnan."

"You've been blaming yourself again, haven't you."

He would never lie, so he just nodded his head quietly as he slowly chewed on his food.

"But why? You already know it's not your fault," Aramis asked softly.

"I tried to tell myself that...but then I found myself believing I was at fault a lot more."

"What brought this on?" Athos queried.

"I was making some crutches for D'Artagnan and Aramis to use so they could get around, and then I recalled that if I had been there on time, they wouldn't need them. I tried to tell myself not to inflict self-blame, but then my mind argued that it was my fault. No matter how much I tried to argue back, its defence was stronger. I...I broke down again..."

D'Artagnan frowned sadly. "Oh, Albert..."

"Then, Captain de Treville came to tell me it's time for lunch, and no matter how much he reassured me I'm not to blame, I found I couldn't even believe him." He pushed his plate away. "I can't eat any more, I'm feeling sick to my stomach."

"Then, you should lie down for a while," the doctor offered as he and Monsieur de Treville re-entered the room. "You can try to eat again later, though I think for the time being, we should keep you on broth."

Captain de Treville looked firm. "I am about to inform His Majesty that neither of you are able to take missions. I believe I know what happened."

"What happened, Sir?" Porthos questioned.

"It's Cardinal Richelieu." He turned to Porthos, Athos and Aramis. "This is like the day the Musketeers disbanded, and only you continued to show loyalty to the crown. How he'd sent many Guards against you in order to completely eradicate the squad, and the good name of the King's Musketeers."

D'Artagnan nodded. "There were almost as many Guards against us the day I'd joined."

"Yes. And I believe the Cardinal is so sore about always being shown-up by all of you, that he decided to try again. And he'd had his Guards time it so then Albert would not be present at the time." He turned to the youngest and smallest male in the room. "They made certain you weren't there when they attacked, so it's not a case of you being too late."

"It's a case of me not being there at all..." Albert whispered, self-blame filling his mind again.

"No. It's a case of the Guards plotting an ambush. Even if you were there, they would've found some way to try to get you away from the others so they could attack at full-force with little worry of your special ammunitions." He straightened his hat. "Now, I will be off. Make sure that you all get some rest." He eyed Albert. "You especially, Albert, lack of sleep won't help you."

"I know, Sir. I'll try to sleep."

"See that you do." He left the infirmary.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Albert the Fifth Musketeer or the characters_

**Chapter Five**

"Monsieur de Treville, Captain of the King's Musketeers!" a footman called as the Captain entered the room quickly yet calmly.

King Louis XIII looked to his old friend. "Captain de Treville, this is quite the surprise! You don't normally come unless summoned!"

"I know, and I apologise for the suddenness of my visit, but there are dire circumstances which resulted in my having to come unannounced."

"Do not apologise, Captain. But, what is it that's so important you had to come?"

Queen Anne of Austria sat in her throne beside her husband, while Cardinal Richelieu stood nearby. "Has something happened to the Musketeers?" the beautiful woman enquired.

The Captain nodded. "Yesterday, four of my Musketeers were attacked. They are currently out of commission."

"How serious is it?" Louis XIII enquired, concern in his tone.

"Very serious, Your Majesty. I would've come last night to inform you, but it wasn't known if they would live through the night."

The Cardinal let out a snort. "Now we can clearly see just how incompetant the Musketeers truly are! Some attackers have left them incapacitated. And I thought nobody could match the Musketeers."

Captain de Treville turned to the Cardinal. "I already know who attacked them, and had the odds been in our favour, my Musketeers wouldn't be lying in the infirmary as we speak!"

"Who attacked them, Captain? Do tell me!" Louis XIII ordered.

"Of course, Your Majesty. They were ambushed by twenty of the Cardinal's Guards."

The King turned to Richelieu, a very stormy expression on his face. "This isn't the first time you've done something like this, Cardinal. I want you to get out right now before I do something I regret! And even though your Guards are the only ones able to, be certain I will hold off any missions I organise until my Musketeers are in fighting shape again! There is no way that I am allowing your Guards the chance, not after this!"

The Captain couldn't help but feel a little smug as he watched the Cardinal leave the room hurriedly before the King lost his benevolent ways and ordered him executed.

"Captain, you said four of your Musketeers had been attacked. What of the Fifth Musketeer?" Anne queried.

"Unfortunately, though he did not sustain any physical injuries, he's no better off than the other four. The doctor expressed concern that following the attack, he will be prone to breakdowns, may decide to miss meals and sleep unless someone insists he partakes of them and it will be too difficult if he is away from the other Musketeers for long periods of time. His wounds are just as painful as the cuts and slices the others had received. The doctor informed me at lunchtime that if he keeps going in the same direction he is now, filled with self-blame and intense fear, then he may have to stay in the infirmary as well."

_Poor Albert..._

Louis XIII nodded. "This is quite dire indeed if all of your Musketeers are out of action. I will allow all of them to take as much time to recover as necessary, even the Fifth Musketeer. If I forced them to hurry, there is no way they would be able to recover enough to successfully complete a mission."

"You have my eternal gratitude for your benevolence, Your Majesty," de Treville commented, voice filled with emotion at just how kind his old friend truly is. He removed his hat and swished it through the air in front of him gracefully as he bowed.

Back in the infirmary, most of the males were asleep. Only Albert was still awake, even though he'd been told he must make sure to get some rest. But, it was difficult to even consider sleeping when his four closest friends were lying in the beds near him, all with serious injuries that had been inflicted. _All because I wasn't there..._ He slid off his cot and stepped over to D'Artagnan's bedside. He was glad his friend was sleeping at least a little more peacefully than the night before. He shook his head. _I'm sorry, gentlemen, but I can't rest as peacefully as you can right now. I can't eat because I feel sick, and I can't sleep because of the guilt that's filling my thoughts._ He folded his arms on the bed and rested his head on them. _I'll just rest my head here for a little while..._


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Albert the Fifth Musketeer or the characters_

**Chapter Six**

The doctor entered the infirmary, ready to give the Musketeers their bandage changes, and make certain Albert was either sleeping or eating. He was surprised to see the youngest of the Musketeers was asleep by D'Artagnan's bedside again. He let out a quiet sigh and stepped over to him. _If I wake him, he might not go back to sleep, but I can't leave him here...I guess I'll have to move him to the cot myself._ So, he bent down and carefully picked up the petit male, then carried him back over to his own bedding. He lay the blond down gently and put a blanket over him. _Now, I hope he stays here._ He then took out more bandages and poultice and returned to D'Artagnan's bedside.

Captain de Treville returned from the Louvre, and decided the first place he would go was the infirmary, just to check up on his Musketeers. He quietly entered and saw all of them were asleep, though to his surprise, Albert wasn't in his bed. _Where could he have gone to?_ He scanned the room, and there the petit Musketeer was, right by D'Artagnan's bedside again.

The doctor returned and shook his head. "This will be the third time I've had to put him back in his own bed."

"As uncomfortable as that can be, it looks like he's only able to sleep peacefully if he's right by D'Artagnan's side."

"Yes, you're right. I even saw him get up earlier and return there. Why do you suppose that is?"

"For some reason, Albert has always been close to D'Artagnan. I can't say why though."

"So, it's comforting to be near him at this time?"

"I believe so." The Captain sighed. "We'll have to find a way to make certain he is right near him, just so he doesn't have to keep sleeping there." He moved to the beds and stood by Albert. He carefully shook his shoulder. "Albert, wake up."

The blond stirred and slowly opened his eyes. "Sir?"

"You can't keep sleeping there. It can't be very comfortable."

He sat up. "No, I guess it isn't."

"You should go back to your bed."

"Sir...I can't sleep there."

"What do you mean?"

"I...can we please talk about it later?"

"Alright. Dinner time then."

"Yes, Sir."

"For now, return to your cot, and we'll try to come up with something later."

"Yes, Sir." He rose to his feet and returned to the cot.

D'Artagnan was the first to wake before dinner was brought in, and he was a little surprised to see Albert resting by his bed again. "Albert?"

He stirred and looked up at the brunette. "Oh dear, I've done it again..."

"You can't be very comfortable like that. I thought you had a bed set up in here too."

"I did, but I can't sleep on it. It's as if being right here is what allows me to rest easier."

"Why is that?"

"While I lie on the cot, I find my thoughts always return, though they're not just _I was too late_, they also involve _why wasn't I there to prevent this? I wasn't there..._"

He sighed. "The Cardinal's Guards made certain you weren't. You can't let guilt over what happened rule over you. I don't think you even ate any more of your lunch, did you?"

"No. The thought of eating made me feel a little sick."

"I see. So, trying to sleep here has actually made you feel more at peace? Why?"

"Maybe it's just because I can."

"Because you can?"

"I think I'm so overcome with the relief that you're still alive, that I can just simply close my eyes and sleep."

"But, you can't do that on your own bed?"

"No. Because it's no different to lying in a solitary room, or at least, that's what it feels like."

"I see." He looked to the ceiling. "Did you ever have this habit in the past? Of staying close to someone who survived an ordeal?"

"I did, only it wasn't that they had survived, it was that they hadn't died yet."

"Who was it?"

"My mother."

He turned to him, forgetting briefly about the cuts on his shoulder. He winced. "Your mother?"

"When I was a child, my mother fell ill. I found myself getting into her and my father's bed every night, just so I could feel her warmth, and remind myself that she was still there. But, one night, my father told me to stay out of the bed. I couldn't...and then that was when I'd found out my mother..."

"Oh, Albert. I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"I don't like to talk about it, to be honest. It's still distressing, remembering the difference in her body. Normally, she was warm and soft, but that night, she was cold and..."

"So, this is also related to a past trauma?" the doctor questioned as he approached the cot. He'd entered with five bowls of broth for the Musketeers to eat once they'd woken.

"Doctor! How long were you standing there?" D'Artagnan questioned.

"Not long, I just came in. I couldn't help but overhear the conversation."

"It's alright, Doctor," Albert replied. "I think you might be right."

"You continued to return to D'Artagnan's bedside throughout the afternoon, no matter how often the Captain and I returned you to your own bed. You said that you do this just because you can. Are you scared that one day, if you do not, then D'Artagnan would not be here when you finally get another chance to?"

"No. It's more like my concern is that if I don't return to D'Artagnan's bedside...then he might die before I awake..."

"Well, we'll have to find a way to keep you close to him without causing yourself any discomfort. That is, if D'Artagnan doesn't mind?"

The brunette shook his head. "It's alright. I said it this morning, Albert needs to recover as much as we do, and if any methods need to be taken, then we'll have to take them."

"Good. Well, dinner first, and then we'll discuss what can be done." He looked over to the other three. "Hmm, that's funny, aren't they usually awake once the smell of food fills the room?"

D'Artagnan turned to Albert and saw his eyes were wide with fear. "Calm down, Albert. They're alright, you can hear them snoring."

"You're right..." Albert breathed.

"They must still be tired. Last night, it was hard to sleep with the amount of pain we were in. And don't even think about it."

"Think about it?"

"Your thoughts were about to take that turn again. I saw it coming."

The doctor looked thoughtful. "You both appear very close. Why is that?"

"It's simple, really. Not long after I joined the Musketeers, Albert joined as well. We're both practically the new boys. Well, aside from Brizzle."

"Also, after our first mission together, I found myself feeling I'd let everyone down. We almost didn't succeed. D'Artagnan was the one who told me otherwise, and it helped me to trust him immensely," Albert added. "Since then, we just became close friends."

"Plus, I guess someone's got to look out for me."

The doctor nodded. "That is true, you do seem to get yourself in trouble a lot. So, you're both like brothers then. I understand."

"Brothers?" D'Artagnan looked at Albert, who returned the gaze. "I guess I never thought about it like that before..."

"Nor did I..." Albert added.

The doctor nodded. "But, you definitely do appear that way. Even now, you're both looking out for each other, only wanting to help the other recover from everything that happened yesterday." He handed Albert his bowl of broth. "Since it seems you can't eat anything too heavy for the time being, you're also on a broth diet. You can eat it here if it would help you feel more at ease."

"Alright, Doctor."

After all Musketeers had been fed, the doctor made another change of the bandages, telling Albert it would be best to keep his eyes averted at the time.

D'Artagnan understood the practitioner's concern. He knew that if Albert was to actually see the wounds that had been inflicted, his guilt would increase and another breakdown would result.

Luckily at that time, de Treville entered the infirmary. "Albert, you're awake." He saw the doctor was preparing the bandages and poultice. "Come with me, we need to talk about what happened earlier."

"Yes, Sir."

"Don't worry, Albert, we'll all be here when you get back. I promise," D'Artagnan assured.

The petit blond nodded and followed after the Captain.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Albert the Fifth Musketeer or the characters_

**Chapter Seven**

In the doctor's office, the conversation was beginning. "Now, Albert, why was it that you continued to return to D'Artagnan's side throughout the afternoon? You had your own cot, and yet, you continued to bring yourself discomfort by resting against D'Artagnan's."

The young Musketeer averted his gaze to the ground.

"I'm not angry or upset, just curious. This might help you find a way to rest well without having to put yourself through that discomfort."

"It was reassuring being by D'Artagnan's side. When I was on my own cot, I felt no better than if I was in my own room. Normally, I'd prefer the solitude, but in the current circumstances..."

The Captain nodded.

"The thoughts kept returning. _I wasn't there, why wasn't I there to prevent this? If my arrival had been much sooner, I could've helped...I could've prevented such horrific injuries from being inflicted on them..._ Those were the thoughts that kept sounding through my head. As much as I try to tell myself I'm not at fault, those thoughts always win in the end... I found the only way to keep them away was to rest by D'Artagnan's side."

"Why D'Artagnan's though? Why not by the others?"

"I do care for all of them as well...but I've found I feel closer to D'Artagnan. Because he understood what it was like to be new, he helped me settle into being a Musketeer. And, surely you heard of what happened in our first mission with the five of us?"

"There was a lot of difficulty that day."

"Precisely. And I could've made things easier if I'd just suggested my ideas to everyone. But, I was worried about overshadowing heroes of France, and what if my ideas didn't work? I voiced those concerns to D'Artagnan when he asked what was troubling me so much upon our return, and he reassured me that it's fine to voice my ideas and to not worry about if they wouldn't work. I'd felt I let everyone down, and he assured me otherwise."

"I see, so that's why."

He nodded. "Also...my habit stems from childhood."

"Your habit? Of moving close to D'Artagnan's side to seek comfort at this time?"

"Yes. I did the same with my mother when she was inflicted with illness. But, one night, my father told me I was not to go to her side, I was to stay in my own bed. I didn't listen, and when I entered the room, I saw my father was crying. I climbed onto the bed, and felt my mother was cold, not warm like she always was. She'd passed away."

"Oh..."

"I've been going to D'Artagnan's side because I can. Because he's still here. And maybe there's that deep-seated fear, coming from the night my mother passed away, that if I wasn't to return to his side, he might die before I wake. I know he won't, but..."

"Like you said, it's deep-seated. That certainly doesn't help you find peace, and right now, that's what you need to finally begin recovery."

"The doctor suggested we discuss a way that I can be close to D'Artagnan, and still avoid having to put myself through discomfort."

"What do you think will happen?"

"I am not sure. But, D'Artagnan doesn't mind. He said that we all need to recover from our wounds, and that if any methods need to be taken, then that's what will happen."

"Good. Did you finish your lunch?"

"No. But, I did have my dinner. The doctor has me on broth for the time being, as I can't eat anything too heavy without feeling ill."

"It's because of your guilt and fear. Once those have eased, you should be able to eat something more substantial."

"Yes."

"Now then, I'll go and see if the doctor is finished. If he is, then you can come out of here. It would be best for you to not see the wounds."

"Yes. I'm certain if I did, my guilt and fear would increase."

"Leading to another breakdown, like the one you experienced before lunch." The Captain made his way out of the doctor's office and entered the infirmary. "Is it alright for him to come back now?"

"Yes, I've just finished," the doctor responded, disposing of the dirty bandages.

de Treville looked into the office. "It's alright, Albert, you can come in."

The petit blond entered the infirmary, immediately going to D'Artagnan's side.

"Their wounds are healing nicely. I think in less than a week, they'll be able to get out of here," the doctor reported. He then turned to Albert. "But, your wounds are a different story."

"Once the Musketeers have recovered, I'm certain I will as well," Albert responded, only to see the doctor shake his head slowly. "Doctor?"

"Not at the rate you're going. Not even having them recover completely will help your recovery speed up."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll still feel the guilt and fear, and may stay close by them at all times to ensure something like this does not happen again. But, Albert, they are soldiers, this sort of thing happens all the time. Everyone can do what they can to try to prevent it, but it won't always work out that way. You need to realise and remember that. As a Musketeer yourself, you know just how dangerous it can be. Even if they do not find themselves overwhelmed by Cardinal's Guards in the near future, something else could happen, and what would you do then? The guilt and fear from this experience will continue to bother you. Your anxieties might get the better of you in the long run. Your recovery will take much longer."

He averted his eyes to the ground. "I know..."

"You need to work much harder on facing those feelings of fear and guilt, and overcome them. Only then can you start your own recovery. Everyone can continue trying to tell you that you are not at fault for what happened, but in the end, what will make the difference is you telling yourself that and believing it. If you don't ever find you can...then I think you'll have to retire from being a Musketeer."

Albert lifted his gaze to the practitioner.

"You can't focus on your duty if the only thoughts that keep entering your mind are the _what if_s. What if D'Artagnan was to be seriously injured? What if Aramis was? Those thoughts are sure to enter your mind. How can you focus on what you must do when you can only focus on what may not even happen?"

de Treville nodded in agreement. "I'm afraid the doctor is right in saying that, Albert. You said yourself that the reason you keep returning to D'Artagnan's bedside, despite it bringing you discomfort, is because you fear that if you don't, he might die before you wake. If you're like this while in the same room, what would you be like on the other side of town?"

"I..." Albert wanted to say _once they've recovered, they could be over the other side of France and I would not worry_, but he knew it would be a lie. They were both exactly right when pointing out what was expected to happen if he didn't focus on his recovery. Earlier, he couldn't even focus on making some assistance devices for his comrades because the guilt overwhelmed him.

D'Artagnan could see Albert was paling. "Hey, you're being a bit too harsh..."

"No, we're being honest," the doctor responded. "He needs to hear this. If we let him continue the way he is, then he will never recover, and will have to leave."

"Albert is the best Musketeer out of all of us! We'd never get by without him!" Porthos exclaimed.

"I know. That's why he needs to be at his best so then he can stay. Like the Captain and I both said, if we leave him be the way he is, he won't even be able to focus on his duty."

"What if he were to at least always stay with D'Artagnan?"

"That's not going to help. If he continues to stay by D'Artagnan's side, even after you've all recovered, it's as if we're saying it's fine for him to continue the way he is." The doctor turned to Albert. "I was at first considering having you stay close to D'Artagnan at the moment, but I think that's only hindering your progress. Tonight, you will have to stay in your own bedroom, and I will lock the door to keep you from getting in here. You need to see that even if you spend the night away from D'Artagnan, he's not going to die. None of your friends will. When you come in for a visit in the morning, then you'll see I was right. That might help you at least release the fear you're feeling. The guilt is another matter."

de Treville put his hand on Albert's side. "Come on, Albert, the Musketeers need their sleep."

The blond nodded and allowed himself to be led out of the infirmary.

Once the door had clicked shut, the doctor moved to lock it.

"Doctor, you know why he kept coming to my bedside throughout the afternoon! Doing this..." D'Artagnan started.

"Doing this will help him realise that what happened to his mother is not going to happen to you, which will help him confront that fear he has."

"He might have another breakdown throughout the night!"

"Maybe so."

"So, it's alright to just let him go like this?"

"It's the best way to help him. You said it yourself, that any methods that need to be taken will be."

"Not if it meant bringing more pain upon him..."

"He needs to recover, and having him in here all the time is not helping him to do so."

D'Artagnan shook his head. "You have no idea..."

He lay in his bed, eyes wide open. He'd found that every time he closed his eyes, it wasn't just the occuring guilt-ridden thoughts that plagued him. He also had to deal with flashbacks of the night his mother passed away, and then they'd even replace his mother with D'Artagnan and the Three Musketeers.

He sat up in his bed. All he wanted to do was return to the infirmary, return to D'Artagnan's side...but he knew that the doctor had locked the door, like he said he would, so there was no chance of it happening.

Albert was a brave young man, there was no question about that. But, whenever he found himself in an uncomfortable situation, any fears he had would increase. This moment in time was no exception.

He lay back down and closed his eyes. He knew he had to at least try to get some sleep.

_**He entered the infirmary in the morning. "Good morning, Doctor."**_

_**The doctor turned to him, a serious look in his eyes. "Albert..."**_

_**"Have the Musketeers awoken yet?"**_

_**"No...and they never will..."**_

_**"What...?"**_

_**"Something went wrong. No matter how hard I'd checked for infection, I could never find any. But, last night, they all passed away. I finally managed to find there was an infected wound on each of them. I hadn't noticed it earlier, so I hadn't treated it."**_

_**"But...you said that they were all recovering nicely...that they'd be out of the infirmary within the week...that even if I went to my room, they wouldn't die..."**_

_**"I'm sorry..."**_

He bolted upright in his bed, and looked around his bedroom. The moonlight shining through the window was the only source of light, and it wasn't very strong, so he mostly saw silhouettes of his belongings. "I'm still in my bedroom...it was just a bad dream..."

Even so, the memories of the dream would not leave him alone. The thought of his friends dying brought tears to his eyes. He covered his eyes with his hands and shook with quiet sobs.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Albert the Fifth Musketeer or the characters_

**Chapter Eight**

The next morning, once the crow of the rooster, for it was the feathered fowl's turn to call out _cock-a-doodle-doo_, had sounded throughout the property, the wide-awake Fifth Musketeer hurried out of his bedroom and to the infirmary. _Please let them still be alive, please let my dream have just been a dream..._

He stood outside the infirmary and found the door was still locked. He started to knock on the door. "Doctor? Doctor!"

The door opened, and there stood the doctor. "It's much too early in the morning. Why are you here?"

Albert didn't answer, he just hurried past the practitioner, into the infirmary. He could hear snoring coming from all four of the Musketeers lying in the beds. "Oh, thank goodness..."

The doctor was not impressed. He put his hand on Albert's shoulder and led him out of the infirmary. "What on earth were you thinking? Barging in like that, while the patients are resting...I thought you knew better than that!"

He realised his actions were rather rude. "I'm sorry, please excuse me, Doctor. It's just..."

"Just...?"

"I...I had a nightmare last night, that they all passed away through the night. It kept me awake for the rest of the night, not even crying as much as I did could put me back to sleep."

"I said yesterday that they were all recovering well. There have been no signs of infection, no symptoms to say otherwise, and their wounds are healing. The nightmare was the result of your fears again. Now, go back to your room and try to sleep, or go to your workshop and have breakfast. Either way, unless you're accompanied by the Captain, you are _not_ to enter here. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Doctor." He turned and walked down the hallway.

The doctor crossed his arms before heading back into the infirmary. He locked the door again once inside. He sighed, the conversation he'd had with D'Artagnan returning to mind.

_**"You really have no idea how Albert thinks, do you?" D'Artagnan asked softly.**_

_**"What do you mean?"**_

_**"On one of our missions, after I got myself into a lot of trouble, he came back to find me. He told me afterwards about what had happened. The castle we were in wasn't a very pleasant place to be, so when he found me sleeping, even though he'd heard me snoring, he felt a bit more fear than normal and woke me with a hint of panic. He even admitted at that moment that the place did appear rather creepy, and though I'd teased him for being a scaredy-cat, I later regretted it. He was genuinely scared for my safety. He told me that even though he knew I was sleeping, he thought something had to be wrong for me to be asleep in such a place. Never mind my habit of dozing off anywhere whenever I'm tired out. "**_

_**"So, you're saying..."**_

_**"Whenever Albert finds himself uncomfortable, his fears increase. He was uncomfortable in that castle, so he was scared when he saw me asleep. It didn't help that I almost drowned in a swamp earlier that day. The urgency in his tone as he woke me, he told me, was not what he'd use to say **__hurry up, we need to get moving__**, it was more along the lines of **__oh, please be alright... __**Of course, after he'd seen that I really was alright, he relaxed and even told me to stop fooling around. He was able to focus on everything."**_

_**"Even so, right now, we need to do this to help him recover."**_

_**"But, is this really the right thing to do?"**_

The doctor nodded. "It is. He needs to realise his fears are just that, they're not going to result in anything other than making him upset."

He lay in his bed. He was worn out, he knew he had to get some sleep. But, he was unable to avoid the negative thoughts each and every time he tried. "Come on, that was just a nightmare. You saw them yourself, they are alright. They are only sleeping, as you should be," he whispered to himself. "They will still be there when you visit later, nothing has gone wrong." He continued to whisper those words to himself as he closed his eyes, knowing that if he heard that as he dozed off, then it would stay in his mind.

He knew the doctor was correct in saying he needed to confront his fears, and then work on his guilt-ridden thoughts. It didn't mean it was going to be easy though. Still, he had to put in some effort. His friends were all resting well, eating their meals and weren't aggravating their wounds, so they were able to recover much easier from the injuries they'd had inflicted on them.

But, emotional scarring was a different story. It wasn't as if poultice and bandages could help with recovery for that. No, work was going to have to be put into it, otherwise, as much as he didn't want to admit it, he would have to retire from being a Musketeer.

"They are fine..."


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Albert the Fifth Musketeer or the characters_

**Chapter Nine**

Captain de Treville entered the workshop, expecting to see Albert at work, in order to distract himself from the thoughts he was having. But, to his surprise, the young Musketeer wasn't in there. "He's not outside the infirmary, is he? Maybe I should check his room first." He made his way through the workshop, to the backrooms.

In a minute, he was outside the Fifth Musketeer's bedroom. He didn't knock, for what if Albert was asleep? Chances of that were minimal, but if he was, it wouldn't do to wake him up, now would it? He quietly opened the door, and peered inside. It wasn't hard to see inside the room thanks to the sunlight shining in. His eyes widened when he spotted the petit blond in his bed, eyes closed and some quiet snores coming from him. _Incredible! He's actually sleeping! I'd better let the doctor know about this!_ He quietly closed the door and turned away from it.

The doctor was serving breakfast to the awakened Musketeers, when he heard the knock on the door. It didn't sound urgent. "Just a minute, Sir!" He handed Athos his bowl of broth, and then moved to unlock the door. He opened it. "I'm sorry for the wait, Captain, but I was giving them their breakfast."

"That's alright, that's more important. Anyway, did Albert come by at any time this morning?"

"Yes. I'm afraid he did. He mentioned he'd had a nightmare, but I reminded him that the Musketeers were all on the mend. I also forbade him from coming in here without you."

D'Artagnan choked on his broth. "You what?"

"He practically barged in this morning, so I knew I'd have to keep him out of here. He can't let his fears rule over him any longer. It's fine for him to come in for brief visits, but only with Captain de Treville. Otherwise, he's certain to want to stay longer, or never leave, and that will only hinder his progress."

"Well, I do have some good news. It seems Albert was actually asleep when I went to check on him. Maybe after experiencing that nightmare and then seeing that's all it was, it helped alleviate the fears, giving him a peaceful rest," de Treville commented.

"I am hoping that's what it is. He told me himself that nightmare kept him up for the rest of the night, so I am hoping it's not exhaustion."

"No, it's not."

"How can you tell, Sir?"

"Albert, when exhausted, is in a deep sleep, so deep he doesn't even snore. I saw him stir slightly when I opened the door to check on him, and he did twitch a couple of times because of the sunlight shining through his window." He looked to D'Artagnan. "That sounds about right, doesn't it?"

The brunette Musketeer nodded. "Yes, Sir. So, since he was snoring slightly, twitching and stirring, it means it's not exhaustion."

The doctor nodded. "That's very good to hear then. He's already working on those fears. But, what of the guilt?"

"I think once the fears have been confronted, it will be much easier to convince himself he was not to blame for what had happened. I think the guilt stems from his fear of nearly losing his friends," de Treville voiced.

Later in the afternoon, Albert woke, feeling much more refreshed than he had over the last couple of days. He let out a yawn and stretched. "That was a peaceful sleep...I'm actually a little amazed I was able to sleep. Maybe the doctor was right in keeping me out of the infirmary." He threw the blankets back and slid off his bed, his feet making contact with the hardwood floor. His stomach rumbled. "Hmm...I did miss breakfast...maybe I should try to eat something. I can try something a little more substantial than broth, but nothing too extravagant. Maybe just a hard-boiled egg will suffice for now...and if I still feel a little hungry following that, I might have something else. After that, I'll try to work on those recovery devices, though if they really are going well, then they may not need them." He thought to himself. "Though, they might still be handy to keep in the infirmary in the long-run. Then, that is what I'll do."

He didn't notice his tone sounded a little more upbeat. It seemed his own recovery was finally underway.

Monsieur de Treville entered the workshop and saw Albert having a small plate of spaghetti bolognaise. "Well, you're certainly looking much better today."

Albert turned to the Captain. "Thank you, Sir."

"So, you're feeling up to eating something more substantial?"

"I am. I had a hard-boiled egg earlier, but then I found I still felt hungry, so I dished this up."

"Good. I'm glad. Also, you were sleeping when I went to check on you."

"Following my nightmare, after seeing the Musketeers really were still alive and still recovering well, I was able to convince myself a lot easier that it really was just a nightmare, and that they would still be there in the infirmary when I'm able to visit them later."

"Yes, I saw them this morning, not long after checking on you, and they're all doing very well."

"I'm glad." He set down his plate and looked to the ground. "I'm sorry I've been causing so much concern lately..."

"It's alright, Albert. I can see that you're beginning your own recovery. To be honest, this morning it did cross my mind that maybe you'd be sitting outside of the infirmary, since you couldn't be in there."

The petit blond looked up at his Captain.

"So, imagine how pleasantly surprised and relieved I was to see you were actually fast asleep in your bed. And the surprises seem to keep coming. You're in here, eating something other than broth. For you to be in here, it means you're going to work on something, aren't you?"

"I decided that even though the Musketeers may not be needing the assistance devices, thanks to their own recovery going along smoothly, I should still make some to be kept in the infirmary, just in case someone does need them in the future."

"So, what devices will you make?"

"As is expected, the crutches are on the list."

"Those would certainly be handy." The Captain smiled. "You sound almost like your old self again."

"I do?"

"Your voice is filling with that same enthusiasm you'd feel whenever it came to your inventions. I think keeping you from the Musketeers really did help you."

The blond nodded. "When I woke not long ago, I didn't find my thoughts saying I needed to hurry to the infirmary. Instead, they were that the doctor was right, my sleep was peaceful, I was feeling hungry so what should I have? and then the thought of working on those devices came to mind."

"You're definitely returning to your old self."

"I think I still have a long way to go. It's still hard to ward off those thoughts and feelings of guilt."

"They might be connected with your fear, so once that has been completely overcome, those feelings of guilt might also leave. It will take a while, but you're already on your way to recovery."

The blond nodded again. "That does make sense, Sir. When those thoughts came, the most powerful, the one that stopped me from convincing myself otherwise, was that it was my fault they almost died. But, now I know that even though the wounds were serious, they wouldn't ever give up and die because of them. They haven't given up and died, they've been resting and allowing themselves to heal."

"Hmm, sounds like you're managing to convince yourself that the Musketeers will be just fine."

"Yes."

"Good. I'll come by later, we can go and visit the Musketeers this evening."

"That would be good, Sir. I'd still like to be able to see my friends."

"I thought so. But, when I leave, that's when you do as well."

"Of course. The doctor told me that I wasn't to enter the infirmary without you, and that means that even if I'm already in there, I can't be there without you."

"Good. Now, don't work too hard, Albert."

"I'll put in my best effort, but I won't push myself. I know that won't help."

"Good."


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Albert the Fifth Musketeer or the characters_

**Chapter Ten**

Albert finished making the bases for the first pair of crutches. "Alright, now I need to consider what will help make them a bit more comfortable to use. It shouldn't be as if there is a block of wood under the arm, that would be very uncomfortable." He looked around his workshop for any ideas. "Oh! How about a cushion?"

"Well, you seem to be making a lot of progress."

Albert turned and saw de Treville had entered his workshop again. "Hello, Sir."

"How are the devices coming along?"

"I've almost finished the first pair of crutches. I'm going to sand down the handles here," he gestured to the little blocks of wood between the two longer ones, "so there won't be any corners to hold. I'm also planning on adding some mini cushions up here," he gestured to the top, "and maybe on the handle so then it will be a bit more comfortable to use. Or I might just wrap something around the handle."

"Excellent work. Now then, are you ready to come with me?"

"Of course, Sir!" He set down the crutches, hopped off the stool and followed after his Captain.

Monsieur de Treville knocked on the door to the infirmary. "Is it alright to come visit?"

"Certainly! Just a minute, Sir!" the doctor called back.

Albert waited patiently for the door to open. He was a little surprised at the lack of anxiety he was feeling.

The door opened. "Good evening, Sir. Good evening, Albert. Come on in. I just finished changing the bandages."

The two men entered the infirmary. Albert surprised himself by entering calmly, not hurrying to the beds.

D'Artagnan looked to the doorway. "Hello, Sir. How are you doing, Albert?"

"I am doing alright, D'Artagnan. Yourself?" He picked up the stool and moved it so he could sit near the beds. He didn't stay by D'Artagnan's bedside, he was there to visit all of his friends, after all. "How are the rest of you?"

"Not too bad. We still feel a little pain now and then, but it's not as bad as when we first got these. At least we're able to sleep well at night, and tomorrow, we might be getting something other than broth," Porthos replied.

"I'm glad to hear that."

"And you, Albert, you sound different. In fact, you're sounding almost like your old self. Was it really helpful for you to stay out of the infirmary after all?" D'Artagnan asked.

"Believe it or not, it did help. After my nightmare, and then coming in here to see that's all it was, I was able to convince myself a lot easier that you'd still be here when I was able to come visit."

"What have you been doing today?" Athos questioned.

"After I woke up this afternoon, I had a hard-boiled egg and small plate of my ammunition for lunch. Following that, and a talk with Captain de Treville, I continued working on those assistance devices. I've almost finished the first pair of crutches. Judging by your recoveries, I don't think you'll be needing these devices. But, it will be handy for them to be around in the near future."

"You really are returning to your old self," Aramis commented.

He blushed lightly and averted his gaze to the hardwood floor. "I'm sorry for causing such concern..."

"It's alright. You were wounded too, you just needed something to help you begin your own recovery."

"Yes, and I think I've finally found it. If I am able to continue to convince myself that you'll still be here when I next come in to pay a visit, then I'll be able to overcome that fear I have, which in turn may alleviate those feelings of guilt."

"Well, we wish you all the best in your recovery. It wouldn't be the same without you," D'Artagnan commented.

"Thank you, my friend."

After a few more minutes, de Treville approached the petit Musketeer. "Alright, let's let them have their rest. We'll come back tomorrow."

Albert nodded. He rose from the stool. "Well then, until tomorrow. Good night, gentlemen. Rest well."

"You as well, Albert. Good night," D'Artagnan responded, the other Musketeers echoing him.

The doctor waited until Albert and de Treville had left the infirmary and closed the door before he moved to lock the door.

Albert had changed into his nightwear. He climbed into his bed, situating the candle on the small table beside it. "Alright. You've just finished visiting them, talking with them, and they sounded much better. It was almost as if you were just coming to check on them if they had a bit of a cold and were resting in their own bedroom. They are just fine now, and will be out of the infirmary by the end of the week. They are fine, so no need to fret anymore about their condition." He continued to whisper to himself after blowing out the candle and laying back, closing his eyes. It had worked in the afternoon, so why not try again?

It seemed to be working that night as well, as Albert soon found himself falling into a peaceful slumber. Negative thoughts did not plague him that night either.


	11. Final Chapter

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Albert the Fifth Musketeer or the characters_

**Final Chapter**

After a week had passed, the doctor gave the Three Musketeers and D'Artagnan the all-clear to leave the infirmary. They weren't allowed to do anything too strenuous, so they had one more week off from their duties. However, it did give them a chance to move around so they wouldn't be too stiff when the time for missions was afoot.

Albert looked out from his workshop window and saw his four comrades having practice duels against each other. He couldn't help but smile, it looked like things were starting to return to the way they originally were. "Hmm, maybe I'll cook up a serving of ammunition with my special sauce to celebrate. Only, the Cardinal's Guards are not the ones who will ever get to taste this one." He moved away from the window and got to work.

The smell of spaghetti wafted through the air, causing the Three Musketeers (plus D'Artagnan) to stop what they were doing and take the time to sniff the familiar scent.

"It looks like he really has returned to his old self again,"Aramis commented.

The Musketeers had noticed whenever Albert visited them during their time in the infirmary that he was slowly starting to overcome that unwelcome fear he'd had, which in turn stopped him from feeling guilt over what had happened. The one moment it was most significant was when Albert refused to look away when the bandages were getting changed. It seemed that seeing the wounds was also an important step for him to take.

_**"Okay, it's time to change their bandages again. Albert, you can look away if you'd prefer," the doctor stated.**_

_**"It's alright, Doctor. I think I should see them," Albert responded.**_

_**"Are you sure?"**_

_**"I am. I need to see the seriousness of the wounds. They haven't completely healed yet, after all. If I can see just how serious those wounds were, then it will help me realise that nothing was going to bring my friends to their deaths, not like this."**_

_**"Alright, but feel free to look away if you have to." He allowed the petit blond to stand nearby as he started to unwrap D'Artagnan's bandages.**_

_**Albert couldn't suppress the gasp he'd released upon seeing the injuries that had been inflicted. "Those are horrible...it really is incredible that you survived that..."**_

_**"Like I was going to roll over and die. I wasn't about to let the Cardinal's Guards claim a victory, after all," D'Artagnan replied. **_

_**"His were the worst out of all of them, thanks to him continuing on in the battle," the doctor informed Albert. "Now do you see? If he was able to survive those wounds in the first night, then nothing will allow him to lose his life, not yet anyway."**_

_**"Yes, I'll be a wrinkly old man before that happens."**_

_**The blond nodded, unable to look away from the numerous scars that were beginning to heal. "I wish that this didn't have to happen..."**_

_**"You're not about to start blaming yourself, are you?"**_

_**"No. Not this time. I honestly wouldn't wish something like this on my worst enemy, let alone my closest friends." He looked up at the brunette's face. "I will have to remember this. For both of our sakes. If you ever find yourself questioning your strength, I will remind you that you survived this."**_

_**"Good. Now, just remember that yourself."**_

_**"I will. I don't think I ever will forget."**_

"Despite seeing all of our wounds that afternoon, when he returned to visit us the next day, he still appeared well-rested. He hadn't even started to say anything about how it's his fault for not being around at the time," Athos commented.

"And then, there's what he'd said to you two days ago..." Porthos added.

_**Athos huffed. "I swear I will pay that Guard back for leaving this scar on my face, right where it can be seen!"**_

_**Albert chuckled slightly. "Oh, I don't know, Athos. I've heard that women actually find scars on men rather appealing. You might find yourself someone special after you've retired from being a Musketeer."**_

_**"I'd be too old by then..."**_

_**"That wouldn't matter. There might be a certain someone right there waiting for you, even if you've aged significantly."**_

_**"Well, with the number of scars we all have, we might all be able to find ourselves our dear women before we lay down for eternal rest."**_

_**Albert just chuckled again, which relieved all of the Musketeers in the room. "You'll have quite the story to tell about them."**_

"I was almost expecting him to blame himself when I made that comment about the number of scars we all have," Athos stated, "but instead he just went with the joke."

Albert grabbed five plates and set them on the table. "Hmm, it seems a bit too quiet outside. Though, I think as soon as I call out that it's time to eat some spaghetti bolognaise, there will be chaos. Oh well, I can handle that." He scooped a large serving onto each plate, and then made his way out of the workshop. He inhaled deeply. "COME AND GET IT!"

The four Musketeers looked to where Albert was. "He didn't make it for ammunition?" Aramis asked.

"Then, that means we can eat some! Wonderful!" Porthos exclaimed.

The four men hurried towards Albert's workshop, ready to have some spaghetti bolognaise, cooked by the finest chef they knew.

The group sat at the table, talking, eating, drinking. There was a sense of peace in the air, as things had finally returned to the way they should. The Musketeers were out of the infirmary, Albert's own wounds had healed.

For all five of them to be together, making jokes and being merry, that was how things were meant to be.

_**Thank you very much for reading this all the way to the end. Now, even though Albert has returned to his old self, it doesn't necessarily mean he's completely recovered from the emotional scars, as those can be reopened by tragic events in the future. Even so, he knows he has his friends by his side to help him should it happen.**_

_**Again, thank you for reading.**_


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